Although Bonnie is nearly twelve years old and increasingly arthritic, she still gallops the length of a park, joyful to be outside and able to smell the scents of the world. I came upon her yesterday, sitting in a slash of sunlight that had come to rest on the living room floor. She looked regal and as if she knew something I didn’t.  When I called her name, she looked me straight in the eye.  After I had snapped a couple of pictures, she sniffed and lowered her head to rest on her paws, as if to say, “How exhausting the demands of the paparazzi are.”